


The Smallest Version of Paraguay

by voleuse



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-28
Updated: 2005-08-28
Packaged: 2017-10-04 10:29:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/pseuds/voleuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Embrace the underpinnings of skin</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Smallest Version of Paraguay

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers through "The Parting of the Ways." Title and summary adapted from Allison Titus' _Heart Part Two_.

Rose watches the Doctor, the new but not _new_ one, and feels a little empty.

He's like, she thinks, hearing a good cover of a song that she loves. Not bad, not really, but also not what she's wanting.

She wants her Doctor back. Except he's dead.

Kind of.

The confusion, she decides, is adding insult to injury.

Injury being the emptiness in a corner of her heart, the one that gets larger every time she stares at the new face and finds it less dear than the old one.

*

 

_The Doctor spins her around the TARDIS, the music piping in from somewhere around the ceiling._

_It's hard to keep track, but she catches bits of Johnny Cash, Geri Halliwell, Mariah Carey, some opera stuff they used to play in the menswear department, the section with all the fancy ties. And Jimmy Hendrix._

_She laughs and laughs, because she's a little dizzy. She wonders how the Doctor picks up music, whether he stops in different eras to browse through record stores, or if he just _knows _it, like he knows just the right times she wants to visit home._

_The Clash comes on the speakers, and the Doctor's hand slides up her back as she grins._

*

 

After Barcelona is Kelrizon, on the other side of the universe. The sunlight is a warm caress, and she drinks something that tastes like lemonade, tingles like seltzer.

The city is celebrating, maybe the entire planet, as far as she knows. There is cheering, and singing, and everywhere she looks, bursts of dazzling color.

They end up in the middle of a street parade, a tallish creature dancing circles around them.

He looks at her, laughter in his eyes, and asks her if she remembers the parade in Rio, that summer after the coup.

"But that wasn't you," she replies, puzzled. "That was the Doctor."

His smile snaps away, and she feels it like a punch to the gut.

"Oh," she says. "Right."

There isn't much to say after that.

*

 

_The afternoon heat bakes into her skin when she steps out of the TARDIS, and she retreats, sheds two layers of clothing, until she's wearing just a camisole._

_The Doctor's still in his leather jacket, and she pokes her tongue at him, calls him unnatural._

_"Only to you," he replies blithely, and she takes his arm as they wander the streets._

_It's the first day of carnaval, and preparations are spilling into the street. _

_On the corner of a street, a band is playing, brassy and brash. There's a small crowd gathered, and a group of dancers shimmies in the center._

_She blushes at their antics, at the cling of their clothes, and the lack thereof. It's like something from under Mickey's mattress, except instead of tawdry, it's beautiful._

_He notices her embarrassment, teases her about her immodest generation. _

_She's just about composed a reply when one of the dancers swoops in, grabs her waist and swings her about. She shrieks with surprise, and the world whirls with her._

_When the dancer lets her go, the Doctor catches her, and she slides against him._

_The leather of his jacket almost burns through her top, and when he asks her why she's flushed, she tells him she's not used to the heat._

*

 

She retreats to the kitchen, and he finds her poking at the remains of a strawberry pie.

"I don't think strawberries are in season," she says, without aim.

"I am him, you know," he tells her.

"I know," she replies. "I mean, I think I do. But you're not." She looks up, feels helpless. "It's not the same."

He sits down, reaches across the table to take her hand.

She draws back, and immediately wishes she hadn't.

His expression shutters, and he looks away.

"It's a time machine," he says. "Strawberries are always in season."

She offers him the leftovers, and he eats them without further comment.

*

 

_On Shasta Colony Five, they stop to observe a festival the Doctor claims is legendary in this solar system. _

_They end up fleeing a stampede of things that look like ostriches, aside from the surprising tentacles, and the glint of the talons on their feet._

_He thinks it's hilarious, even though, it turns out, the festival is famous for its body count._

_Aside from the cramp in her side, Rose is starting to think it's funny, too._

_He reaches out, flails a bit before catching her hand in his._

_They grin at each other, and they run._

*

 

They end up, inadvertently, sitting in on the inauguration speech for the president of an Earth colony, in a year that Rose doesn't remember, except it started with a 7 and ended in a 10.

She thinks he chose it because she made a reference to the Beatles, but she can't be sure. She hasn't been paying attention to very much, of late.

There might be worry in his eyes, but she doesn't pay attention to that, either.

The president, who looks quite human, aside from the two heads, is only amusing for the first fifteen minutes. After that, she gets bored, and antsy in her seat.

She'd suggest they leave, but the Doctor seems interested. Besides, they're hemmed in by the crowd, and she doesn't fancy pushing her way through.

The two suns beat down warmth. She lets the speech melt together with the shifting murmurs of the people around her, lets it all lull her into a doze.

Her head dips, and she falls asleep with her cheek against his shoulder.

When she wakes, his arm is solid against her, the cloth rough against her cheek. She leans into his neck and lets herself smile.

"You smell like him, almost," she murmurs.

He squeezes her closer, and for now, she lets him.

*

 

_It comes to her in dreams, sometimes. _

_The press of his lips against hers, the way her body fills with light like ecstasy, thrums apart with it._

_Then it goes dark, and she feels him lift her, carry her into the cool of the dark._

_She buries her face against his shoulder and asks him not to leave her again._

_"Not if I can help it," he whispers in her ear. "And you won't let me, anyhow."_

_She smiles at that, curves her lips against his skin._

_When she raises her head, kisses him again, she thinks that he trembles._

_He pulls away, touches a hand to her forehead. "Sleep, Rose," he murmurs, and the last kiss is barely a caress._

_It's almost a memory, but she's sure that it isn't._

_She doesn't yet have the courage to ask him._


End file.
